The Finish Line

by Stewart , Kate

  “Jesus Christ,” Diane sighs.

  “You’re safe here. But if you feel more comfortable leaving, I’ll understand.” I scrape my top lip with my teeth, dreading my next confession. “And when you get home, I’ll have the birds who’ve been watching you two for years finally introduce themselves.”

  Both of them whip their head in my direction, and I shrug. “I’m sorry, it was necessary.”

  Diane’s eyes shine with a mix of shock and awe. “All this time, you’ve been protecting me?”

  “I promised Roman I would protect his daughter, and that includes protecting you. And I have good reason to be equally invested in your well-being.”

  She gazes up at me. “I knew when I met you that you were special, but this is some major overachieving, don’t you think?” It’s her first joke of the day, and I’m grateful for it.

  “I’ll protect her with everything I’ve got.”

  “Apparently, she’ll do the same for you. By the way, she gets her badass gene from me.” Another smile, another joke, and I’m pretty sure the wine is responsible.

  “Of course, she does.”

  “Tobias—” she starts again, her eyes softening substantially.

  “No more tears, Diane, and no apologies. Okay?”

  She nods. “I’ll try.”

  “Goodnight.”

  They give me a goodnight in unison as I walk into the darkened house, the only light on coming from the bedroom. I have no idea what I’m in for, but I slow my gait slightly as I make my way across the living room.

  What in the actual fuck, King? Grow a set.

  Speeding up my walk, I find her in the bedroom, staring down at her comforter as if it’s fascinating. I circle her waist and nuzzle her from behind. “I know it was a lot.”

  She steps out of my hold, reeling on me, her eyes shooting blue daggers.

  “What?”

  “You met my mother, one of a thousand omissions you casually left out. Or how about this one, ‘hey, you know I’m the mastermind behind a secret society of vigilantes, but the President is a fucking part of it.’”

  “I didn’t—”

  “You had months to tell me these details when We. Were. Together!”

  “Well, in those months, the fucking club was the last thing I wanted to talk about for the few hours I got to steal and escape with you. Up until I met you, my whole life was work. With you, I was selfish. I told you that. I’ve admitted it, I’ve apologized for it. But back then, in that time, with you, I was just…myself, me, Tobias. Just a man in love with a woman and loving the freedom I felt because of it.” I exhale. “I couldn’t risk telling you those details about Preston, Cecelia. I’d already handed you my own demise. And we were still undefinable at that point, all the way up until the day we imploded.”

  “Preston,” she scoffs, “even so, you still haven’t learned, have you? Secrets and omissions tore us apart before and will again.” Fury radiates through her frame as I try and stop the hemorrhaging before it starts.

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  “Won’t you?”

  “I’m trying, Cecelia, so fucking hard.” Pulling off my hoodie, I run a hand through my hair before gripping the back of my shirt, tossing it off. Her eyes immediately drop, to the floor, disintegrating any hopes I had of resuming the intimacy we shared this morning.

  Tempted to drive my fist through the drywall, I clench it at my side instead, as my frustration threatens to boil over.

  “What you did today,” she says softly, “for my mother, was…indescribable, so…selfless, and one of the most incredible humane acts I’ve ever witnessed, which only made me love you more.”

  I step forward, and she jerks her head back up, her eyes filled with accusation. “And you ruined it! You ruined it by being the same jackass you’ve always been!”

  “By being honest?!”

  I step forward and invade her space, eager for this fight. Because she’s fighting her emotions now, and they’re winning, and to me, that’s more important than the why of it.

  “You ruined it by keeping me in the dark about the details. All these things, if I would have known even half of them, I would have had a better understanding of you, you fucking jackass!”

  “You do understand me! You see inside me, you’ve been in places no one else has.”

  “Maybe so, but these things you consider details are vitally important to me, Tobias.”

  “Are you on your sugar pills?”

  “What?!”

  “Nothing. Keep your voice down. Your parents are outside.” My head begins to pound.

  Welcome to the bliss of domestic life, Tobias.

  But it’s not my own voice I hear. It’s Sean’s. “I didn’t have time—”

  “More excuses, not reasons.” She shakes her head and scoffs. “Haven’t you ever in your life blurted anything out? Ever?”

  “Once or twice, but only when fighting with you. And you know better, I’ve trained myself never to do that, you should know—”

  “Oh, I know! Trust me, I know, you stupid French ape!”

  Biting my bottom lip, I dart my eyes away.

  “Don’t you laugh at me! This isn’t fucking funny! This right here is the why, Tobias. This is why a majority of our problems exist, because of your fucking secrecy!” She slaps her chest where her heart lay. “You want in here?”

  “Yes,” I clip, my blood boiling.

  “You want back in here?” She says it again.

  “Yes, god damnit, that’s all I want!”

  She rounds the bed and steps up to me, and smacks the side of my head with her finger. “Then let me in here!” I gape at her in shock as she steps away, launching the next missile over her shoulder, “until then, you’re wasting your fucking time here.”

  “I was honest with you tonight!”

  She balks at me as if I’ve slapped her before turning her back on me. “Just once,” she marches to the bathroom, clicking on the light, “just once, I wish I could make you feel what this is like.”

  “I think finding out that you were brought into my club and having a relationship with not one but two of the men closest to me is enough fucking surprise to last a lifetime.” I hover by the bathroom door, and she pauses with the toothbrush in her mouth before tearing it out, the residue bubbling on the corner. “That’s not the same, and you swore you would never bring that up.”

  “Not to hold it against you, it was to make a point!”

  “A choice point!”

  “Fine. I’m sorry,” I grunt, my entire body lighting with anger and frustration. “I just meant it was surprising enough. And just to make myself clear, I’m good until twenty years past death with fucking surprises when it comes to you.”

  “That wasn’t a surprise of my design!”

  “Doesn’t matter. You’ve met your quota.”

  “That was then,” she argues back. “I’m talking about now. Right now, at this very moment.”

  The idea of coming clean about Antoine gets tossed out the window as I step in shit, neck deep.

  I’m fucked now, either way. If I come clean about our possible threat, then she’ll only slam up her defenses.

  One fight at a time, Tobias.

  “I’m talking about being blindsided without a good reason when you’ve had time to tell me the truth!”

  You’re so fucked. Pack a bag for your ass and kiss it goodbye.

  The man inside of me refuses to back down, the man who desperately wants to mend this bridge. He wants to crush her mouth, silence her with his tongue, and punish her severely with his cock. This is anything but progress, and I fear all my efforts the last three weeks are fruitless by how she’s regarding me—which only enrages me further.

  “I’ve had time? I’ve had time? Putain.” Fuck. She pushes past me, refusing to meet my eyes, and I follow on her heels. “Between bussing tables and following you around like a second puppy and getting the door slammed in my face, I’ve had time, right?�
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  “Don’t you dare! I haven’t slammed the door in your face!”

  She squares off with me across the bed as I unclasp my watch and slam it on her nightstand, unloading my pockets. “Might as well have. And believe it or not, Trésor, you are not the easiest woman to fucking talk to. If the subject would have come up—”

  She rips her sweater off, and my eyes drop to the swell of her perfect tits atop her heaving chest.

  “Eyes up here, Pierre, and pardon me if I don’t ask the right questions pertinent to the secrets you’re keeping at the time.” She throws up her hands. “Who the hell knows with you!”

  “What do you really expect from me, Cecelia? Did you expect me to come back to you a completely reformed man with all the answers, who makes all the right moves? I’m still the same man—the villain. And I’ll always play dirty to protect you and keep you safe. I’ll consider making any allowance you need to try and make this work, but you’re truly fucking mistaken if you think I’ll shy away from the ruthless, unforgiving, and cruel parts that still exist in me when need be. You asked for the man you fell for, well there’s two sides to him, and neither are going anywhere.” I cut my hand through the air. “End of.”

  I swear I see smoke coming from her nostrils, expecting fire to follow as her eyes narrow. In a flash, she shoves down her jeans and unclasps her bra before pulling open her chest of drawers.

  “Don’t you fucking dare!” I boom. “I’d rather you take that fucking Beretta from your purse and shoot my cock!”

  “Don’t tempt me, King!” She turns, tossing the fresh pair of flannel pajamas on the bed—same fucking pattern, this pair in light blue, and I’ve never in my life hated the sight of an inanimate object so much. She drops the fuzzy socks—the cherry on top—onto the pile, and I cup the back of my neck and stare up at the ceiling.

  “You just want to hold a grudge,” I huff. “We were getting closer this morning, and this is your way of fucking that up. You’re cowering away, again.”

  Silence ticks by along with the small clock next to her head, just before she hurls it at me and misses me by an inch.

  I take a step forward as she jerks the top of the pajamas over her head, and it might as well be a knife to the chest. It’s clear I’m not the only one who plays dirty. “We just relived every bad fucking thing that happened between us, Tobias. I think it’s best we just stop talking.”

  “Yeah, because that’s been working out for us so far. And it makes your whole argument moot. More silence—that ought to help.”

  When she reaches for the pajama pants, I hit my limit.

  “If you so much as stick a toe in those goddamned pants, you’re declaring war, and all bets are off!”

  She shoves a leg in as my patience snaps.

  “Merde. Bon sang, femme. Tu me testes au-delà de mes limites!” Fuck. Goddamn it, woman. You are testing me past my limits.

  She pushes her second leg in, pulling the drawstring tight around her waist to rub the salt into my gaping chest. “Well, welcome to the fucking club, Frenchman! Good to see we’re finally on the same page!”

  “Anything but. We’re not even in the same fucking place anymore.”

  “Fine with me.” She points to the door. “You know the way out.”

  She sucks in a breath, and I can see her immediate regret. The shred in my chest is barely manageable as I drop my gaze and grab a pillow from my side of the bed. “Well then, my treasure, I’ll save you the trouble of showing me the door twice.”

  I spent the majority of the night tossing and turning, knowing I could ease the too-familiar ache of missing him by simply taking his hand and guiding him back to bed. And once his arms were around me, I could take back the words I didn’t mean. But a lot of those words I did mean.

  His recalling of our story to my mother blew my mind and shed some much-needed light on so many things. That’s all I want, but he was right. I’ve refused him at almost every turn to explain his reasoning for the things he’s done. I’ve damned near made it impossible for him to confess anything by both avoiding him and his explanations.

  Putting our own story into words reminded me of just how much we’ve been through, but it also reminded me of the reason we can’t fully mend—all of the fucking secrecy.

  He can’t change his spots overnight. All things ingrained—bad habits included—have cemented his personality over time.

  Secrets are who and what he is, because he’s lived as a secret himself for countless years.

  If I want this to work, I’m going to have to remember that and try not to resent him for the secrets he still harbors.

  Whether he’s aware or not, he’s still keeping them—selectively.

  After letting Beau back in, I tread lightly through the living room before using one of the discarded throw pillows to kneel in front of where he sleeps. He’s completely unguarded as he draws heavy breaths, his thick black lashes fanning over his sharp cheekbones. He’s bundled in one of the patched quilts I bought from an antique store when I moved here. He looks wildly out of place on my short couch that he dwarfs with his sleeping form. Fingers itching to touch, Beau beats me to it by licking the side of his face. He grunts in disgust, pulling the covers over his head as I muffle my giggle. I expect him to resume his snoozing, but his voice sounds beneath the thick blanket.

  “Va te faire voir, connard. Je sais que tu as dormi avec elle.” Fuck off, dickhead. I know you got to sleep with her.”

  Stifling another laugh, I run my fingers through his hair, and he lowers the covers to glare at my pajamas before remorse-filled amber eyes meet mine.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi,” he whispers, stretching his long legs past the confines of the arm of the couch before turning his body to fully face me. “You’re finally fighting back. Does that mean you’re starting to forgive me?”

  Running my fingers through his thick black hair, I lean in, inhaling citrus and spice, the smell flooding me with memories. “Why can’t we just hate each other?”

  “Simple,” he murmurs, “We love each other too fucking much.”

  “We survived our first trashy fight.” I nod past my shoulder toward the door. “Complete with my parents in a trailer outside.”

  He draws his brows. “This is good?”

  “I think so.”

  He lowers the patched quilt and cups my jaw, squishing my lips the way he did all those years ago in Roman’s kitchen. “All I want, Mon Trésor…is to build a bonfire the size of Texas and burn all these goddamned pajamas. It’s all I’m living for.”

  My laugh breaks his hold as he easily lifts me from where I kneel to straddle him. He brushes the hair away from my shoulders as he gazes up at me, eyes probing.

  “I have a lot to tell you, and some of it may make you angry, but I’ve lived many different realities and hidden so much for so long, it’s hard to distinguish what secrets I held and what lies I told and in which life. ”

  “So, tell me everything.” I blanket him, laying my head on his chest, and he wraps his arms around me, resting his chin on the top of my head.

  “I plan to, Cecelia, but it’s…”

  “I know it’s hard. And I will be as patient as I can be, within reason.” I press a kiss to his chest. “I do want you here, Tobias. I do,” I whisper, palming his chest where my kiss lingers to feel his steady heartbeat. “If it makes you feel better, Beau only got to first base.” I burrow deeper into him as he rubs his palms up and down my back, chasing away the morning chill.

  “It’s hardly fair. He’s got home field advantage.”

  “True, but this is your home too.”

  His body relaxes with my words as he lifts me, adjusting me so we’re face to face, his dick thickening at my thigh, sending a wave of need throughout my body. I bend to kiss him just as he lifts to meet it. The kiss is sensual, unhurried, as he slides his tongue along mine, arm circling me as he crushes me to his chest. He feeds me his apology with every slow swipe of his tongue, and I recipr
ocate, moaning into his mouth, the ache of last night slowly slipping away as we part, eyes connected.

  “Remember when—”

  “Everything,” he says softly, flexing his fingers through my hair. “I remember everything, Cecelia. Every word you said, every look you gave me. Your three kinds of laughs, the details of your dreams, the way your nostrils flare when you’re starting to get pissed. The sting of your slaps, the salt in your tears, the fit of your breasts in my hand. The feel of your mouth, the taste of your pussy,” he murmurs, sliding his thumb along my jaw, “so which part do you need me to remind you of?”

  Running palms down his arms, I start to lose myself in the feel of him as he pulls me back to his lips. Warm hands tentatively explore as his kiss drifts from my jaw to further down my neck. Soaked and needy, my pulse kicks up as I slide my hand down his chest and over his stomach to cover his cock. His massive length jerks in my hand as I grip him through the material of his boxers. A pained groan vibrates my lips before I murmur his name, a request on the tip of my tongue just as a knock sounds at the door.

  Tobias lifts, keeping me in his arms while letting out a string of French curses. I pull away just as perturbed but can’t help my laugh at his reaction. “Guess they’re early risers?”

  I stand and yank the pillow and blanket from the couch and hand it to him as he stands, a full-sized tent pitched in his boxers, a deep scowl on his face as I nod toward his engorged cock. “Do something with that, will you?”

  “Oh, I intend to,” he threatens, his voice a mix of lust and fury.

  Blowing out a harsh breath, his eyes roll down my body before he stalks off with his arms full, stomping into the bedroom before kicking the door closed with his foot.

  Tobias and I wave my parents off after I’ve assured my mother of texts and phone calls every day for the rest of my life. Her concern is warranted, but it’s my job now to protect her from whatever truths may come. It’s a part of being in on the secret.